AMES' SERIES OF 

I STANDARD AND MINOR DRAMA. 
I NO. 105. ' 




K; WITH CAST OF CHARACTERS, ENTRANCES, AND EXITS, RELATIVE POSITIOHS 3 

^ OF THE PEEFORMEKS ON THK STAGE, DESCRIPTION OP COS- ^ 

TUME8, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS, 

AS PERFORMED AT THE PRINCIPAL 

AMERICAN AND ENGLISH 

THEATRES. 




CLYDE, OHIO: 
A. D. AMES, PUBLISHER. 




7r 



AMES' SEBIES OF ACTING PLAYS. 

PRICE FIFTEEN CENTS EACH.— CATALOGUES FBEK. 



C^-« 

NO, M. P. 

12 A Capital Match, farce, 1 act, by J. M. Morton 3 2 

30 A Day Well Spent, farce, 1 act, by John Oxenford 7 6 

2 A Desperate Game, comic drama, 1 act, by Morton 3 2 

75 Adrift, temp drama, 3 acts, by C. W. Babcock, M. D 6 4 

80 Alarmingly Suspicious, comedietta, 1 act, J. P. Simpson...4 3 

39 A Life's Revenge, drama, 3 acts, by W. E. Suter 7 5 

78 An Awful Criminal, farce, 1 act, by J. Palgrave Simpson...3 3 

15 An Unhappy Pair, ethiop'n farce, I act, by G. W. H. Griffin ..1 1 

65 An Unwelcome Return, com' intl'd, 1 act, by Geo. A. Munson 3 1 

31 A Pet of the Public, farce, 1 act, by Edward Sterling 4 2 

21 A Romantic Attachment, oomed'tta,! act, by Arthur Wood. ..3 3 
43 Arrah DeBaugh, drama, 5 acts, by.F. C. Kinnaman 7 5 

73 At Last, temperance drama, 3 acts, by G. C. Vautrot 7 1 

20 A Ticket of Leave, farce, 1 act, by Watts Phillips 3 2 

100 Aurora Floyd, drama, 2 act, by W. E. Suter 7 3 

89 Beauty of Lyons, dom drama, 3 acts, by W. T. MoncriefF..ll 2 

8 Better Half, comedietta, 1 act, by T. J. Williams 5 2 

98 Black Statue, ethiopean farce, 1 act, by C. White 3 2 

113 Bill Detrick, melo drama, 3 acts, by A. Newton Field 6 4 

86 Black vs White, farce, 1 act, by Geo. S. Vautrot 4 2 

14 Brigands of Calabria, rom drama, 1 act, W. E. Suter 6 1 

22 Captain Smith, farce, 1 act, by E. Berrie 3 3 

84 Cheek will Win, farce, 1 act, by W. E. Suter 3 

49 Der two Surprises, dutch farce, 1 act, by M. A. D. Clifton ..1 1 

72 Deuce is in Him, farce, 1 act, by R. J. Raymond 5 1 

19 Did I Dream it? farce, 1 act, by J. P. Wooler 4 3 

42 Domestic Felicity, farce, 1 act, by Hattie L. Lambla 1 1 

60 Driven to the Wall, play, 4 acts, by A. D.Ames 10 3 

27 Fetter Lane to Gravesend, ethiopean farce 2 

13 Give-me my Wife, farce, 1 act, by W. E. Suter 3 3 

117 Hal Hazard, military drama, 4 acts, by Fred G. Andrews. ..8 3 

50 Hamlet, tragedy, 5 acts, by Shakespeare 15 3 

24 Handy Andy, ethiopean farce, 1 act \ 2 

66 Hans, the Dutch J. P., dutch farce, 1 act, by F. L. Cutler...3 1 
116 Hash, farce, 1 act, by W. Henri Wilkins 4 2 

62 Henry Granden, drama, 3 acts, by Frank L. Bingham 11 8 

17 Hints on Elocution and how to become an Actor, 

103 How Sister P. got Child Baptized, etho farce, 1 act, 2 I 

76 How He Did It, comic drama, 1 act, by John Parry 3 2 

74 How to tame Mother-in-law, farce, 1 act, by H. J. Byron. ..4 2 

35 How Stout You're Getting, farce, 1 act, by J. M.Morton 5 2 

26 Hunter of the Alps, drama, 1 act, by Wm. Dimond 9 4 

47 In the Wrong Box, etho farce, 1 act, by M. A. D. Clifton 3 

95 In the Wrong Clothes, farce, 1 act, 5 3 

77 Joe's Visit, etho farce, 1 act, by A. Leavitt & H. Eagan 2 1 

11 John Smith, farce, 1 act, by W. Ilrncock 5 3 

99 Jumbo Jum, farce, 1 act 4 3 

82 Killing Time, farce, 1 act, 1 1 

9 Lady Audley's Secret, drama, 2 act, by W. E. Suter 6 4 

3 Lady of Lyons, drama, 5 acts, by Bulwer 12 5 

104 Lost, temperance drama, 3 acts, by F. L. Cutler 6 2 

106 Lodgings for Two, comic sketch, 1 act, by F. L. Cutler 3 

Catalogue continued on next page of cover. 



Through Snow and Sunshine. 



AN ORIGINAL DRAMA 



IN FIVE ACTS, 



— BY — 



T. M. Montgomery & T. D. Steed^ 



As produced under the personal supervision of the authors, at the Opert 
House, Cleveland, Tennessee, Tuesday Evening, February 18, 1879. 

"With a synopsis of incidents, original cast of characters, description of 
costume, entrances and exits, and the stage business. 



, 'y^^ 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the yea¥ ISSO., by 

A. D. AMES, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



CLYDE, OHIO: 

A. D. AMES, PUBLISHER. 



[^I^tvj 






THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 
As originally performed at the Opera House, Cleveland, Tennessee, Thurs- 
day Evening, February ISth., 1879. 

Harry Fairfield T. I. Gaut. 

Wra. Brierly T. M. Montgomery. 

Josiah Nibs........ W. C. Steed. 

Tim Whipall T. D. Steed. 

Old Miller L. V. Brown. 

Squire Danvers R. C. Newell. 

Mary Brierly Miss Lillie Smith. 

Dollie (the dairy-maid) Miss Mattie Hughes. 

Widow Whipall Miss Sallie Taylor. 

Miss Sallie Hanscom Miss Jennie O'Neil. 

Farm hands, 1st. & 2d. officers. 



Costumes — Modern. 



Time of performance — two hours* 



SYNOPSIS. 

ACT Ist— SCENE 1st. Farmer Fairfield's home. The harvest. Celebra- 
tion. The pleasure is marred by Brierly and Nibs. The fight and victory 
of the farmer. The dance. SCENE 2d— Snowing. The Plot. Dollie tak- 
ing Tim home. The farm-house fired. The supposed murder of Tim. 

ACT 2d — SCENE 1st. Circumstantial evidence against the farmer. Sep- 
paration from the girl he loves, Brierly revenged. (Three years supposed 
to elapse between 2d & 3d Acts) 

ACT 3d.— SCENE 1st. The home of Tim Whipall. Widow Whipall ad- 
vertises for a husband. SCENE 2d. — Mary Brierly 's sorrow for her lover. 
Brierly pleads for her hand. She consents. Brierly confronted by Nibs. 
They quarrel. A compromise is effected. SCENE 3d.— Widow Whipall 
gets an answer to her advertisement. Tim confronts his mother. SCENE 
4th.— Fairfield's return. Is met by Tim and Dollie. He accompanies them. 

ACT 4th.— SCENE Ist. Fairfield attempts to see Mary. Brierly and 
Nibs quarrel. The villainy of Brierly. 

ACT 5th.— SCENE 1st. Brierly prepares. SCENE 2d.— The wedding 
day. Ceremony stopped. Meeting of Fairfield and Mary. 



Through Snow and Sunshine. 

ACT I. 
SCENE FIRST. — Woodland, \3d. grooves] near the farm house of Harry 
Fairfield. A t the rise of the curtain, cheers are heard off r., and enter Harry 
Fairfield, folloxoed hy Old Miller, farm hands, millers and maids. As they 
enter they cheer. 

Harry, [l.] Friends and neighbors, this is the first time since my 
father's death that in my own name I bid you welcome to our harvest 
home. It is only one short year that I have been your master, but we have 
known each other long, and love each other well. As you found my fath- 
er, so shall you find me — not only an employer, but a friend. I have in- 
vited the men in yonder mill to join you in your festivities, and as I see 
they are coming I will once more bid you welcome, and enjoin you to be 
merry and wise. 

Farmers, (r.) Hear! Hear! Three cheers for Master Harry, 

All. Hurrah I Hurrah! Hurrah! 

Har. I am glad to see you my men, I think I have provided all that is 
-I'jcessary, but if there is anything lacking, speak and you shall not want 
it long. 

Millers, {together) Thank 'ee, thank 'ee 1 

Old Miller, (r. c.) It be very kind of you farmer, to think of us poor 
chaps. It shows you have a good heart, and the man who treats his ser- 
vants well don't lose by it, though there be some who won't see it. Now 
there's Master "William, much as he likes pleasure himself, don't think us 
poor fellows want any, and if it hadn't been for Miss Mary saying as how 
we might leave work, I don't believe Master William would have let us, 
Oh, farmers, it be a pity that old Brieriy give so much power to that neph- 
ew of his, he will regret it some day, see if he don't I 

Har. You may misjudge Mr. William, he has not been brought up in 
the country as we have, his manners may belie his feelings. However do 
not let us speak of unpleasant subjects, but make yourselves merry. 

Enter r. 3 e. other Millers supposed to be from Brierly''s Mill. 

Millers, (as they enter) Hurrah, for Master Harry ! 

Old Miller. Come on boys, and let's begin the fun. Hello, there come8 
Mr. William 1 

Enter William Brierly, and Josiah Nibs, L. 3 e. 

Brierly. (l. — in a passion) What does this menn ? 

Millers, Maids, etc. get to back of stage. 

Har. (c.) It is our i:>-\c3t home, Mr. Brierly, I shouM be hap])y if 
you would join us. 

Brl. Join you ! Do you take me for a clod-hopping boor like yourself, 
that you ask me to join in the rude festivities of a sat of ignorant workmen. 

Har. (r.) 1S\y. Brierly, I took you for a gentleman, I am sorry for the 
mistake. 

Bri. {advancing — {n a passion) Kascal, dare you deny that I am ? 

Har. A gentleman ! Certainly I do, though it needs no assertion of 
mine, since your very acts and words prove it. 



4 TIIEOUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Bri. (l. c. — in a hissing tone) You shall regret this. 

Kar. {smilinj'^ I am not easily frighteued. 

Bri. Nib! 

mb. (L.) Yes sir. 

Bri. Take down the names of every man and boy who left the mill to 
join these fellows here, and, mark me sir, when they present themselves at 
the mill again, pay them what is due and instantly discharge them. 

Old Miller. "We be not away without leave sir? Miss Mary Brierly told 
us we could go. 

Bri. Did she? then you '11 find my man, that I am master, not her. You 
never enter the mill again ! 

Har. Or rather say, tyrant ! Shame on you, Mr. Brierly, this act of 
yours, stamps you a mean spirited tyrant, and a contemptible coward ! 

Bri. Coward ! {advancing with anger 

Har. Aye, coward. Your paltry spirit sought revenge for the rebuke I 
gave you, you feared to turn upon me, so turned upon them. I repeat, you 
are a coward, and a tyrant ! 

Bri. Villain I Apply that epithet to me again and I '11 

Har. Hold, Mr. Brierly I For the sake of one 1 love, I would not harm 
you, therefore goad me not too far. 

Bri. Harm me ! Presume to address me again, and in the presence of 
these ignorant rustics, I will chastise you. 

Har. Hark you, Mr Brierly, I can see your object is to quarrel with me, 
but be warned in time. Look upon this arm of mine 1 it has been made 
strong as iron by hard and honest toil. I offered you this hand in friend- 
ship — you spurned it, if you goad me to extend it in enmity, you will re- 
gret it. 

Bri. If you think that the arm strengthened by toil, is a match for the 
one wielded by science, this to convince you of your mistake. 

{strikes at Harry, who passes the blow and strikes Brierly doion. 

Enter Tim, r. e. 

All. Hurrah, for the young master I 

Nib. I am witness to this assault on my respected master, and the law, 
sir, shall make you pay for it 1 

Tim. Shut up, quill driver 1 stand back, or I '11 just lay my whip about 
those thin legs of yours 1 

Flourishes his xuhip — Nibs juynps out of the loay — during the above Brierly 
gets up. 

Bri. Farmer, that blow shall cost you dear I I hated you before, I 
loathe you now, and my vengeance shall never slumber till I have crush- 
ed you body and soul. 

Har. Ha, hal I care no mo^ for your threats, than for the passing 
breeze. If you can injure these poor men, you cannot harm me. 

Bri. I can, and I will I 1 will strike, not at your face, but your heart, 
and your reputation. You triumph now, Harry Fairfield, but|the victory 
will soon be mine. I hate you, and I loill be revenjed! 

Har. Viper 1 I knovv what your threat portends, you would ruin me in 
the estimation of the girl I love, and through your cousin Mary, strike at 
my heart. You have sought this quarrel, because I aspire to the hand you 
would win I 

Bri. Aye, and I will blight your hopes, and ruin your happiness I Harry 
Fairfield, you have made me your foe, your bitter, lasting, implacable foe I 

Har. Coward! Now I know you in all your infamy, I will have no 
mercy ! {catches him by the throat 

Enter Mary hurridly, R. 

Mary. Hold, hold I in mercy I 

Har. {releasing his hold) At your command, Mary, I spare my direst 
foe, your foe and mine I 

Mary. Cousin, what means this ! "Wherefore is this scene of joy, turned 
into one of bickering and sorrow. 



THROUGH SNOW AXD SUNSHINE. 5 

Bri. He struck roe, and I am not one to forget or fdrgive a blow. But 
this is no place for you, so come ! {grasps her arm 

Mary. Where ? {drawing back 

Bri. To the mill, to your home ! I will explain uU there. 

Mary. If you refuse to explain it here, I will hear it from Harry, and 
then I shall get a truthful version I am sure, since Farmer Fairfield is too 
proud, and too truthful to stoop to a falsehood. 

Bri. You forget Miss Brierly, that in your father's absence, I am your 
guardian, and that you must accompany me if I will it so. 

Mary. Indeed sir, I have a will of my own, and shall use it ! Were you 
not yourself in fault, you would not be so eager to drive me hence. 

Tim. That be it. Miss, he be a mean paltry sneak. It be his own seelc- 
ings and he's got just what he deserves. {Brierly dashes at Tim 

Tim. {standing firm, whip in hand) Keep off! or I'll put my whip 
around I I beant injthe ^ervice at the mill, and you can't sack I, as you 
have these poor cha^s, 'cos they come to drink a glass at harvest home i 

During the above, Mary and Harry have been conversing. 

Mary. Cousin, could you think' to win my respect by what you have 
done? It but imbitters those feelings of aversion I always entertained to- 
ward you. Here my affections are centered, and here they will remain. 

{places her hands in Harry'' a 

Har. Thanks, dearest, for that answer ! 

Bri. Mary, you know not whom you spurn ! I have sworn that man 
should not call you wife, and I will keep my oath. 

Mary. Leave us, your presence is a blight upon the hapniness of all ! 

Bri, Aye, and I will blight your happiness and his ! Farmer Fairfield, 
your triumph shall be short lived, you have a serpent in your path that will 
sting you to the death. Bcioare, be warned, for my vengeance never slum- 
bers, {he turns and is followed by Nibs, both exit 

Mary. Oh, Harry, Harry ! beware of that man ! I will reveal all to my 
father on his return, and he will not dare to harm me. But he is treacher- 
ous and cruel, and may strike you when you least expect it. 

Har. I shall be prepared, come when it will, Marv. Our friend's 
mirth has been stifled, but now that he has gone, all will be well again. 
[turning to rustics) Come friends, let's be merry and of good cheer, and 
that no shadow may lie across the path of your joy, I engage to employ 
every man whom Mr. Brierly discharges. 

Tim. Three cheers for Master Harry. Hollo, boys, hurrah! 

Har. Now let's have a merry time. Get your partners boys and we will 
have a social dance. {Dance — after lohi'^h they all exit 

SCENE SECOND. — Landscape. Snow falls during the scene. 
Enter Brierly, and Nibs, l. 

Nib. You requested me to meet you here, sir, and here lam! 

Bri. I did, and it is well you obeyed. Mr Nibs, I have been carefully 
looking over your books, and I find 

Nibs, {inter up t ing ) W h a t , s i r ? 

Bri. That for a long time past you have been embezzling my uncle's 
money, and it becomes my duty to hand you over to the otticers of the law. 
Josiah Nibs, let me tell you that transportation is the penalty of your crime. 

Nibs. Oh, Mr. Brierly, for heaven's sake be merciful ! do not betray me, 
spare me, and I will bless you, become your very slave !j 

Bri. You see how firmly I have you in my power, one word from me, 
and a prison cell becomes your home, then a trial, conviction, and finally a 
journey across the seas, a branded felon to meet a convict's doom. 

Nibs, {kneeling) For the love of heaven, spare me 1 

Bri. {aside) Good, I can play upon his fears and use him for my pur- 
pose, {aloud) Spare you! why should I spare you? What return will 
you make for mercy ? 

Nibs, {kneeling) I will do your every bidding — become your most abject 
Blave, 



6 THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Bri. Swear it, then I 

Nibs. I do, I do ! {he rises 

Bri. Enough ! this moment I will put your promise to the test. You 
know I have a hated foe in Harry Fairfield. I hate him for his courage and 
independent spirit, but I hate him with a deadly hatred because he has 
won the love of my cousin Mary. 

Nibs. Yes, yes I 

Bri. Since you are in my poAver, I will speak plainly. I would wed my 
cousin, not only because I love her, but that I may possess the wealth my 
uncle bas been years accumulating. This Harry Fairfield will tear her 
from my arms unless a blow is struck that will separate them forever. 

Nibs. Then strike it, he has often treated me Avith contempt, and I too 
hate him. 

Bri. So much the better, for then you won't have any scruples in ruin- 
ing him. 

Nibs, {surprised) 1! Mr. Brierly? 

Bri. You — and your reward, my forbearance, my refusal to brand you a 
felon, and transport you beyond the seas for the term of your natural life. 

Nibs. But though! hate him, he has never injured me, as he has you. 
"Why not strike the blow yourself? 

Bri. And place my own liberty in jeopardy. No, Josiah Nibs, you have 
already forfeited yours, and if you would have me spare you, yours must be 
the hand to relieve me of a foe, yours the hand to avenge my wrongs, and 
place my cousin's affections in my keeping. Refuse, and you spend your 
Christmas in a prison. 

Nibs. I must consent!. 

Bri. Of course you must, and now listen to the plan that is to destroy 
Farmer Fairfield, and save yourself. I know that he has insured his farm 
and stock for a heavy sum, and were it destroyed by fire, suspicion might be 
excited as to foul play. Could suspicion become certainty that the farmer 
had willfully set fire to the place, not only would he be plunged into pov- 
erty, but his character would be blasted and he would be punished as an 
incendiary. Do you follow me? 

Nibs, (horrified) Yes, yes, yes ! 

Bri. That is Avell. Now, mark me. Farmer Fairfield's property must be 
consumed by flames to-night, and means must be contrived to prove that 
the fire was willfully caused by the owner of the place. Unless this is done, 
to-morrow sees you charged Avilh embezzlement. 

Nibs. No, no, Mr. Brierly, I cannot do it I 

Bri. Then I will place you in the hands of the law ! 

Nibs. What if I divulge what you wish me to do ? 

Bri. Who would believe you, it would make you appear even a greater 
scoundrel than you are, and embitter your judges against you. But have 
you decided to refuse the only means by which you can save yourself? 

Nibs. No, no ! It is a terrible deed, but it shall be done. 

Bri. The plot is easy of accomplishment, and the rewa'-d your liberty. 
Tired with their revels, and half stupified with ale, those on the farm will 
sleep soundly to-night. Entrance to the kitchen is easy, the farmer's coat 
slightly burned, with his tinder box and matches in its pocket, left clo3e to 
where the fire commences is all that is required. Who but a fool would en- 
dure transportation for life, when half an hour cleverly employed saves you 
and makes the man who can destr )y you, your friend forever. 

Nibs, {in agony) Oh, it is a fearful crime, but it must be done ! 

Bri. It must! but some one comes this way, we must not be seen togeth- 
er, come, we will mature our plans as we go. But it must be done, and this 
very night I {takes Nibs by the arm and exit l. 

Enter Tim and Dolly R. 3'i«i drunk. 

Dolly. Now do stand up Tim, what a stupid you are 1 I'd never touch 
the ale if it made such a fool of me as it does you. 

Tim. Only been drinking Maaster's health, Dolly, for he's a jolly good 
fellow you know, and it's Chrigtmas time and ' {stumbles 



THROUGH SNOW AND SUNShT^E. 7 

Dol. Stand up or I'll shake you, that I -will 1 {shakes him 

Tim. Don't be cross, Dolly, it's all owing to Christmas, you know, and — 
well — I'm- — blest Dolly, if you ain't a twin. Why which ia you — and 
which is yourself? {stretches out his hand for the iviaginary Dolly and falls 

Dol, Dear, dear, I've half a mind to leave you here and let you sleep till 
you get sober ! 

Tim. These feathers hain't been shook up, the bed's very hard — I think 
they have stuffed the chickens in along of the feathers, and I'm blest if the 
feathers aint all flying about — I won't put up with a hard bed when we are 
married. 

Dol. Oh, you stupid drunken fellow, I don't think I shall have anything 
more to say to you, that I don't 1 You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to 
drink till you see two Dollys, and fancy the snow ia a feather-bed. Get up 
directly or I'll leave you where you are ! Mother would be angry if she 
knew I had left the house. 

Tim. He's a jolly good fellow, and your a jolly good fellow, and we're 
all jolly — jolly — jol jol 

Dol. {trying to raise him) Now Tim, will you go straight home, if I 
leave you ? 1 shall get into trouble, if mother finds I am not in the house. 

Tim. I'm all right — Dolly— you shan't get into a row, give me a kiss I 

Dol. No, Tim, I must be going. exit r. 

Tim. I say, Dolly, why where is she? just now there was two of her 
here, and now there ain't one. Hello, how these feathers are flying about I 
I'll mend the tick to-morrow, how the bed goes 'round I {falls, and sleeps 

Enter Brierly, L. 

£ri. Surely the fool's courage will not fail him ! no, fear will nerve his 
hand and steel his heart. He is in my power, and dare not rob me of my 
vengeance. Ah, Harry Fairfield ! you little know the man you struck, if 
you think his revenge will slumber, you little dream of the terrible ven- 
geance that is mine, {light off 1..) Ah 1 the flames are kindled that shall 
destroy him. Yes, yes, the house is on fire I I triumph 1 Some one comes, 
I must not be seen — this tree will hide me. {gets behind tree 

Enter Nibs, in haste, loith gun L. 

Nibs. Go-^d heavens, what have I done, what have I done ! {looking back 
at fire) Oh, wretch that I am, can I ever survive this night! Why do I 
hesitate to kill myself with this gun 1 took from the house to defend my own 
worthless life. 

Bri. {coviing forward) Fool ! away, away I say I discovery will be ruin. 

Nibs. What harm has Harry Fairfield ever done me, that I should fire 
his house and hide my own crime by planting evidence against an inno- 
cent man ? 

Bri. Idiot! have you not saved yourself from transportation by the 
deed ? 

Nibs. And have I not ruined the prospects, blighted the character, blas- 
ted the very life of the noble hearted farmer, to save myself, and to minister 
to your revenge ? William Brierly, mine was the hand to kindle the flames, 
but yours was the head to plot. Not I alone am guilty, and if through this 
night's work I fall, we fall together. 

Bri. Fool! why should you fall? I hated Harry Fairfield, the power I 
held over you, I have exchanged for my triumph over him. You have 
gained in safety, 1 in revenge, and where is the evidence to prove that you 
or J are guilty ! 

Tim. {springing up) Here, here ! 

Bri. Oil ! {Nibs starts to run, Tim springs upon him 

Tim. Accursed villain, I have heard enough to show that yon fire is the 
work of your hands, and I will denounce, and drag you to justice, or die in 
the attempt ! 

Bri. Fool, you have learned too much I {takes gun from Nibs) Your 
babbling tongue must be silenced forever. 

'Tiva.. Oh, coward I 



8 TIMIOUGK SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Bri. {strikes Tim icith gun ichn falls) Meddling fool, die! {examines him) 
he is silenced and cannot harm us ! 

Nibs. What! what have you done ? 

Bri. Saved you from the gallows, fool. Why do you stand quaking 
there ? Whose gun is that ? 

Nibs. Harry Fairfield's. 

Bri. So much the better, it will serve our purpose now, let it lay be- 
side this corpse, {laji/s gun doioa) Another fearful evidence against the 
man I hate, {takes Nibs by the arm) Rouse yourself fool, put on a look of 
courage if you cannot feel it, come let's away. {bath exit 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 



SCENE FIUST— Woodland.— Harry Fairfield seen standing when cur- 
tain rises with head bowed. 

Har. Oh ! this is a bitter blow. Yesterday, all so joyous, to-day ruin 
and desolation. 

Enter Brier I y — he lays his hand on Harry's shoulder. 

Bri. This is a bad change, farmer, very bad. 

Har. (recoiling) You, you here ? Mr. Brierly have you come to feast 
your eyes on my ruin, and triumph in my misery? 

Bri.' Not so, farmer, yesterday you were a proud and prosperous man, 
to-day you are ruined and despairing. Yesterday I hated, but to-day 1 
pity you. I would not have held out my hand to save you from sinking, 
but now I offer you two, to pull you up, give me your hand fprmer, and if I 
can do anything to assist you, command me. 

Har. Mr. Brierly, perhaps we have both been hasty and uncharitable to 
each other, but let be-gones be by-goues. I thank you for your offer but 
must decline it. 

Bri. This is pride, Harry, I tell you I would be your friend, can I as- 
sist you ? 

Har. No, I thank you, it is true the old farm is gone and the plentiful 
harvest has perished, but I thank heaven I am insured and though I am 
pained at the thoughts of the many it will injure this bitter winter, yet I 
am not a ruined man, 

Bri. Well I am glad to hear it, yet I fear 

Har. Fear what ? 

Bri. That the fire occurring so soon after your insurance will lead to a 
deal of inquiry and trouble. 

Har. Wherefore? 

B7-i. Because insurance companies are always on the lookout for some 
means to escape payment, and the fire occurring so soon, if they could make 
it appear the work of an incendiary, depend upon it, they weuld only be 
too glad to do so m order to t-ave their gold — but of course you have noth- 
ing to fear in that direction. Your character is too high for suspicion. 

Har. 1 trust it has always been so. 

Bri I am sorry for you farmer, and if you alter your decision, and will 
accept aid from }ne, I shall be glad to help you. Yesterday we were foes — 
let our quarrel be forgotten, and give me your hand. 

Har. Willingly — {gives hand) — for though I do not fear a foe, I would 
rather possess a friend. There is one favor I will ask of you, since now I 
eaanot employ the men discharged at your mill, you will let them return 
to their work. 

Sri. They shall once more believe in my sympathy and willingness to 
aid you. {exit Harry n.) The fool believes in my sincerity, so much the 
better, should a suspicion of the truth flash through his mind, he -would 



THI10UC4II SNOW AJTD SUNSHINE. » 

instantly spurn it. Easy forgiving fool, to believe that my enmity slum- 
bers. I hate him, but I must play the hypocrite to further my own ends. 
Hello 1 Mary comes this way to condole with her rustic lover, but that love 
shall be blighted, the idol of her soul held up to infamy and disgrace. 

{exit L. 
Enter Hurri/ l. c. Mary r. c. 

Mary. Oh, Harry, Harry ! 

Hir. Mary, the old farm is gone I 

Mary, HoV did it happen, Harry ? 

liar. That I know not, I was aroused by the smell of smoke and hurried 
down to fiad the place in flames, and all the hands that slept on the farm 
were asleep and I had only time to awake them, and then it vvas too late to 
do anything but watch the destruction. 

Mary. Could it have been set on fire? 

Har. I do not think it could — I have no enemy. All was safe when I 
retired, and I w.is the last one up on th,e premises. 

Mary. It is a sad, cruel blow to fall at such a season of peace and good 
will. 

liar. It was but yesterday I resolved, upon your father's return, to ask 
his consent to our union, but this fire has not only destroyed the home to 
which I hoped to convey my bride, but has blackened my prospects of 
winning you at his hand. 

Mary. Do not give this a thought, Harry — you are highly respected by 
my fattier, and were it otherwise, my love is yours, and when you claim 
my hand, I will give it, come what may. 

Har. Bless you for this assurance — certain of your love, I can defy all 
misfortune. {kisses her hand 

Enter Squire Danvers l., carrying a gun, folloxoed by two officers and Dolly. 

liar, [r.c] What is the meaning of this? What new trouble has come 
to this quiet village? 

Squire D. [c] Did you know that the body of Tim Whipall had been 
found near your house — and that he has been foully murdered? 

Har. Murdered? Impossible! 

Squire D. It is too true. When did you see him last ? 

Har. But a short time before I retired last night — he drank too much 
liquor and remained till the last. 

Squire D. Look at this gun. 

Har. It is mine — there is my name upon the stock. It is covered with 
blood — what means this. {all look at it 

Enter Brierly and Nibs, l. 1 e. — they speak to each other aside. 

Bri. [l.] Be careful — a word, or a look, may betray you. 

Nibs, [l ] How will it end ! 

Bri. With a rope around your neck, fool, unless you are bold, [aside'] 
Did they but know that Tim is not dead, and that I have taken care of 
him, I should lose all my power. 

Squire D. When did you last see this gun? 

Har. Late last night, when I loaded it and placed it behind tho 
kitchen door. 

Squire D. \sternly'\ This gun, with the blood stain upon its stock, was 
found beside the body of the murdered man in the lane. You were the 
last person who saw it — he was found murdered. Circumstances are against 
you, and I must do my duty. 

Mary. What do you mean ? 

Squire D. That at present suspicion points to Harry Fairfield as the 
guilty maa. 

Mary, [clings to Harry'] No, nol He a murderer? Impossible. 

Har. A murderer! Good heavens, who would think me guilty of such a 
crime? 

Bri. As well might you accuse him of setting (ire to his house to get the 



10 THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

insurance, because he only effected it a short time before it was burned. 
One would bo as sensible as the other, yet are not both preposterous ? 

Nibs. And the man who would commit one crime, would not hesitate at 
the other. But Harry Fairfield is not that man — he is too good, too honest , 

Mary. No, never by thought was he guilty of such a crime. 

Squire D. [lo Harry] It is not for mo to judge, but simply to do my 
duty. A murder has been committed — the weapon with which the deed 
was done, is yours, and vvas in your possession a short time previous to the 
commission of the act— hence, suspicion points to you. 

Bri. [syiceringly] Why not order the officers to search yonder ruins for 
proofs that he set fire to his house — he is as apt to be guilty of one crime as 
the other. 

SquireD. G.>anrl search — you may find a clue, [exit officer,i,.—to Brierly) 
There may be soinelhiiig in what you have just said. 

liar. Oh, Mary, you <i(> not believe mo guilty ? 

Mary. Bviliove you guilty, Harry? Sooner would I believe my own 
hand struck the blow that deprived poor Tim of life — but bear up Harry, 
heaven will not allow an innocent man to suffer for the guilty. 1 have th>j 
utmost faith in your innocence. 

Har. Heaven bless, you dear one. 

Enter Oiji •'.'', l., xoith a coat partly huryxed. 

Officer, Thia coat has just been found under the hedge near where tha 
fire commenced. The party who gave it to me said it was the one Mr. 
Fairfield wore yesterday. 

Har. [looking at coaf] Yes, this is mine, but how it came there I do not 
know, as I took it off in the kitchen when I loaded the gun. 

Squire D. {examitiing ike cont) There is nothing here to criminate you, 
farmer — at least upon the outside, (feels in the pockets) Ah, what is this ? 

(draics out a tinder box and -matches 

Bri. {showing signs of delight — loith mianing) There is not hiug there, 
I think Squire to add to this ridiculous farce? 

SquireD. Silence, sir. Such a remark is uncalled for, after the one you 
suffered to escaped your lips a moment ag:). This tinder box, and those 
matches, discovered in this coah, which wns found near the spot where the 
fire originated, added to the circumstances of the murder, all point to the 
fact, that Harry Fairfield, to obtain the insurance, fired the building — that 
he was detected by the murdered man, and to hide one crime, committed 
another, and it is my duty to order him into custo>iy. 

Har. {surprised) Order ine to prison ? Impossible! 1 am innocent, as 
heaven is my judge. 

Bri. Squire Denvers, myself and Mr. Fairfield have never been on 
friendly terms, but I would stake my very existence on his innocence, and 
will at the proper time be his bail, even to the last farthing I possess. 

Har. Oil, why am I tried thus. You all know me — you do not believe 
me guilty? No, no I you cannot {kneels before Jiary) Mary, come what 
will, never, never boliev«^ me guilty of this crime, for I swear to you 1 am 
innocent. 

SquireD. Officers, do your duty. {fhey arreH him 

Bri. {asile to Nibs, as the of^ccrs are about to leal hini axony) He struck 
me, and I have returned the blo^v, with interest. The hour of my triumph 
is at hand, and she, proud beauty, will be mine. 

{as they arc mooing off u., scene closes 

CURTAIN. 



7%ree years are supposed to elapse between the second and third acts. 



THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. H 

ACT III. 

SCENE FIRST— A plain room at Widow WliipaWs residence. Table, 
chairs, etc. — Widoio Whipall, discovered sitting near table b. c. — writing paper 
pen and ink in table draiver. 

Widoit). Well, let me see — it's nigh onto three years since Jeremiah died. 
It was the fall after the house at Farmer Fairfield's was burned, and they 
thought Tim was murdered — it's strange too, that after a while Tim made 
his appearance, and no one can ever get a word out of him about where he 
waa or anything about it. Yes, it's three years next Christmas. Well, 
I've nothing to look back upon with regret, I've lived a prosj^erous life, and 
no livin' critter can say but I have been a respectable widder woman ever 
since. I heard Aunt Sweet say that old Sarah Hanscom said that she 
should think that the Widder Whipall would be ashamed to put pink rib- 
bons into her cap, and her poor dear husband not cold in his grave. She 
said that pink ribbons didn't look well anyhow for a woman of my age. 
Age indeed ! if I was Sally Hanscom, I'd keep still about people's ages, 
she's nigh on to fifteen years older than I am, and she's been just twenty- 
nine for the last twenty years, and all the time trying to get married. 
She's made a dead set at every uamarried man here, and any new comer 
that makes his appearance has to run the gauntlet of old Sally Hanscom. 
It's just as much to be expected as the measles in the spring. 

Dolly puts head in d, l. 2 k., sleeves rolled up. 

Dot. Mrs. Whipall, what must I do with the wash? The wind is blow- 
ing the sheets and shirts clear out of their buttons and hems, and it's tore 
your night-gown till you can't tell which end it goes on at. 

Wid. Take the clothes in, Dolly, and I'll come out and see to 'em bye 
and bye after my shoulder's done aching. 

Dol. Yes' em. {aside) If I'm not mistook the old lady's in love, she's 
acted like it for some time. {disappears 

Wid. I do wish Dolly kuowed enough to stay in her own regions and 
had sense enough to know what to do with things, and how to do it. If it 
hadn't been for my rheumatics now, I could have did my own work, and 
that night-gown wouldn't been tore. Let's see, I was speaking of getting 
married, or rather was going to. I feel that it's my solemn duty to provide a 
father for my poor orphan children, and I'.m wi]li)ig to sacrifice myself to 
do mj duty. But who shall the lucky man be? 1 su|)pose I might have the 
pick and choice of most any of 'em, but 1 do like the looks of that Squire 
Denvers, I seed him to mectin' last Sunday, and he's rather the best look- 
ing man around here. So genteel and faskinating ai- the girls say, and 
such a nice mustache and whiskers, as a general thing 1 don't like whiskers, 
thoy make most men look like goats, but the Squire's is splendiferous. 

Enter Dolly l. 2 e., with ragged white article. 

Dol. See here, now, it's blowed the very embroirdery out of yer go to 
meetin' bolster case ! 

Wid. {impaticnily) Don't disutrb me again, Dolly, I'm thinking ! 

Dol. Yes 'em. {aside) It's a settled fact, the old lady's in love. 

{exit L. 2 E. 

Wid. I've a great notion to advertise. Some one will answer it, and 
Squire Denvers is as likely to as any one, he looks as if he might be one of 
the romantic fellows we read about. I'll do it, I'll put the advertisement in 
the Weekly Banner of Freedom, {takes pen, ink and paper fro/n drawer) 
Lawful me'l I hain't got a single idea, and I don't know as I can write any 
more, it's been so long since I tried. Well, now for composin' the thing — 
Spose I have it this way. {lorites) "Gentlemen Attend. A widow lady of 
good looks, two children and some property, still young, desires to form the 
acquaintance of some gentleman with a view to matrimony. Address B, 
W. Box 210," 



12 THROUGH SXOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Enter Sail]/ Hanscom, B. 1 E. 

Wid. {starting) Laws me, how you scart me ! 

Sally. Writing a letter, eh? — love letter, sorry I disturbed you, b ut I 
expected you had got pnst sich things. 

Wid. I see no reason why I should not write such an epistle if I -want to 
— but this hapf)ens to be a business letter. 

Sally. Oh! I understand, excuse me, thought I'd jist step in and see if 
you'd heard the dreadful news, I declare it's give me such a shock that I 
can't keep a jint of me still. 

Wid. You don't say so. What is it? 

Sally. Sam White has h ung himself ns dead as dishwater to the bed- post. 

Wid. The merciful Moses! When is he to be buried? 

Sally. That's the worst of it. They cut him down before the spark of 
life was q\iite extinguished, and then they put him in a barrel and rolled 
him and blowed into his mouth with the bellows, till they'd resuck tionated 
him. 

Wid. Of all things! 

Sally. It's the shamefuUest thing I ever heard of. It's our place to let 
the dead rest in peace, we've uo bizness roUin of 'em into barrels and cut- 
ting holes into 'em with galpaaic batteries. 

Wid. That's a fact. Do sit down and spend the day, I'm go ing to have 
greens for dinner. 

Sally. Thank you — I never eat greens — they don't agree with my stom- 
ach. I've got several more calls to make, and I didn't know as you and 
Dolly would hear about White, and I felt as if I ought to call and tell you. 

Wid. Certainly. Well, I '11 go down as far as the post-office with ye, 
I've got this letter to drop in. (puts on bonnet) I gennerly carry my let- 
ters myself, there's so much cheat la this world, you don't know who you 
can trust. {both exit l. 2 b. 



SCENE THIRD— Apartment 2d. grooves. 

Enter Mary Brierly, L. 

Mary. Three years, three long years of misery and suffering to him* 
Oh, heaven, to what a fearful doom is he consigned, life long toil in a con- 
vict settlement, separated from all he loves. Oh, that I could gaze upon his 
face once more, but ala~, I never can, to me he is dead, dead. {weeps 

Enter, Brierly, B. 

Bri. Sorrowing, Mary ? Oh, how^ it pains my heart to see you in grief, 
would that [ might comfort you. 

Mary, {sadly) I shall niever know comfort more, William'^ 

Bri. N;iy, do not speak thus, of what use is it to repine for that which is 
wholly lost. If cruel destiny hns robbed you of one heart, it gives you an- 
other whose love is true. Oh, Mary, give me but one word of love !^ 

Mary. I have no love to give, I gave it once, bestowed it upon one un- 
worthy perhnps, and gave it forever. 

Bri. Oh, that such love Avas mine! Mary, your love is yet your own 
to bestow, I ask it, I implore it for myself. Give me the right to comfort 
and protect you, be mine, and my whole life shall prove how dear you 
are to me. 

Mary. William, I will not deny that your conduct since my father's 
death, has caused me to look upon you as the best friend I have in the 
world, and though I respect, I cannot love you as a wife should love. My 
heart is Harry's in his exile, and my hand is all I can bestow. 

Bri. Give me but that, and I will teach you to love me afterwards. 
Nay, Mary, do not let me plead in v.iin, say you will be my wife. 

Mary. If a wife without love, if a hand without the heart will suffice 
you, why — why— 



THROtJGfl SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 13 

Dri. (gladh/) You consent, you consent, vou will be mine? 

Mary. I will. 

Bi'i. (ki.'ises her hand) Thanks, thaulcs ! You know how I have lono-ed 
tor this nioiaont, now 1 am hapj)y. . '^ 

^ycuy. If the possession of a broken hearted worn in can make you so. 

Bn. One promise more. Do not delay my haopiucss, say you will be 
mine m one month, on Christmas ilay ? 

Mari/. It jnatters not, I will go to the altar when you bid me. 

Bn. Then on Christmas day you will be mine, and 1 shall be supreme- 
ly happy. ^ 

^3^'"-^*ir^"'^ ^~ ^^' ^ ^^'^^^ never know happiness again. ie.vit,L. 

Bn. lla, ha, ha! {walk.-i to aad fro) At length, success ! Mary, I love 
you better than any other woman, but 1 love your gold better than all. 
Already 1 seem to have it within my grasp. It's glitter outshines the 
glare of the burning farm-house, and it's chink deadens the groans of your 
convict lover, it will stillc the voice of accusing conscience, and sparkle, 
the last shining drop in my cup of vengeance. {turas to r. as 

Enter Nibs, l. 

Brl. You here? How dare you intrude thus upon my privacy 7 

Nib's. *I dare' a great deal Mr. William Brierly. 

Bri. Too much. Let me tell you, you had better be careful, or you may 
intrude too far. 

Nibs. And if I do, what then? 

Bri. We shall quarrel. 

Nibs, [coldti/] No, we shall not. We cannot afibrd to quarrel — at least 
you cannot, Mr. Brierly — not now. 

Bri. What do you mean ? 

Nibfi. That it might be a very unfortunate thing for you to quarrel with 
me, just when you have won the pretty Mary's promise to bestow her 
hand and fortune on you. 

Bri. {angrily) Rascal, you have been listening. 

Nibs. Well, and what if 1 have ? 

Brl. This is too much — I'll not endure it. 
, Nibs. But you must. The time has long gone by, when I wa3 your 
servant — now I am your equal. I committed a crime and placed myself 
in your power — you committed another, and placed yourself in mine, and 
have repeatedly forged the name of the woman you expect to marry . 

Bri. Peace, 1 say. Think you I would have your words reach the ears 
of my cousin, you contemptible eavesdropper ? If you think by what you 
have overheard, you will wring more money from me, you are mistaken. 

Nibs. Now this is unkind, ungrateful. Here you are at the present mo- 
ment, positively a beggar, without enough to refund the amount of the 
smallest check you have forged, and yet you begrudge to pay me for silence 
when one word of mine would prevent your possession of a pretty wife, and 
an ample fortune. 

Bri. Josiah Nibs, you were a cringing cur when powerless — now in 
"your fancied strength, you are a cruel and exacting hound. Have you no 
!nercy ? 

Nibs. What mercy had you on me? Would anything less than the ruin 
oi my very hopes of salvation satisfy you? No, you have made me what 
I am, and you must abide the consequences. On Christmas, Mary will 
become your wife, and you will come into possession of thirty thousand 
pounds. The day after the marriage, give me one-half of this, and I will 
leave the country and trouble you no more. 

Bri. You ask too much. 

Nibs. You refase? Then not one farthing shall you possess, nor the 
girl either. 

Bri. {sizzing him ly the throat) Wretch, Avhat would you do ? What 
prevents me from stranglinjr -'oa? 

Nibs, {draws revolver) This. I am not so defenseless as you imagine. 



14 THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Experience has taught me to always be prepared for treachery in a hypo- 
crite and scouudrel. 

Bri. Curse you ! 

Nibs. Bless me rather, for saving you from committing another crime. 
There is no harm done, so we will again to business. {puU pistol in its place 
with stock protruding) If I were a greedy or unforgiving man, I should 
now demand more, but I will tiike the fifteen thousand, if paid at the time 
stated. Papers must be made out and signed by you to that effect, and in 
my hands, or the girl will be warned. 1 cannot trust you, will you con- 
sent? 

Bri, I must ! 

Nibs. A very wise conclusion, you will gain a pretty wife, fifteen thou- 
sand pounds, and a release forever from the only man who could bring you 
to a felon's doom. 

Bri. Enough, leave me, I have much to think of, and Avould be alone. 

Nibs. Since we understand each other, I will not trespass further. 
You will not forget, fifteen thousand pounds, remember. {exit L. 

Bi'i. Maledictions on him! Oh, fool that I was, to think the worm I 
trod on would not turn and sting me. The hateful parasite will cling to me 
till every farthing is gone, and has dragged me down to the lowest depths 
of ruin and dispair. But, no, I am not yet crushed, and I will foil him 
yet. One month gives me the woman I love, and the wealth I covet, and it 
shall also give me release from the man I fear— the viper, b©rn of my bit- 
ter vengeance. {exit l. 



SCENE FO URTH.— Kitchen in fourth grooves. 

Eater, Widow Wkipall, l. 1 e., vjith an open letter in her hand. 

Wxd. Wal, if this ain't splendid ! If it don't beat the muster, such ile- 
gant writing too. Deary me, only hear him. {read-'i) "My best, and dear- 
est beloved widow woman, with good looks, two children and some prop- 
erty. I am transfigured with esta'ic delight to read your delightful and 
modest notice in the Bagle, and hasten to re;)ly to it, with emotions of gen- 
uine beatitude. Long have I Wcindered alone, through this cold worldf 
seeking for my soul's mite, and niiuy days and nights have I wept because 
it was not to be discovered. Oh, iny beiov.id B. W." {a=iidc) That's me I 
**If you have any regard for my lifippine?s, meet me this evening in the 
lane, at half past seven o'clock. ]\Ieit me, or be the means of breaking 
my heart forever, ])ast all mendinc:. Till '-ea'h, voir own CD." It 
must be Squire Denvors, — C. D. slauus Ibr iiis ia nc, Charles Denvers. Oh, 
ain't I a happy woman 1 {dances about stage 

Enter, Tim L. 1 E. 

Tim. {astonished) Hi! What the dickens are you dancing for? I 
thought you told me that dancing was one of the devil's inventions. I'm 
shocked at you, mother 1 

Wid.. {cmbarratised) I wasn't d-.nicing, I was only — 

Tim. Shoo I I beg your pardon, but wliat have yoi got tliero, a letter 
from Aunt Susan ? Let's see what stie says, {tries 'to tub: letter) Don't 
be so stingy with it. 

Wid. Do behave yourself, Tim. {puts let' cr in pocket) I do wish, you'd 
try and be a little more steadier, I don't see where you got all your mis- 
chief from. There, stop that ! 

Tim. {putting on one of her caps, before the gl-tsi) Ain't it sweet, won't I 
captivate 'em ? How becoming ! 

\Vid. {S7iatchcs it) Tim Wh'pall, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! 
There, you've bent the wire all up, and smaslied the ribbons. 

Tim. Have I ! Well I'm sorry, and now to })ay for it, I'll be so kind to 
a poor old lady, who c.m't road without specticles, as to read a little notice 



THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 15 

I've just found in the Bugle, the richest thing I've seen for years, only hear 
now. {reads notice 

Wid. (Ji.lgiting) There, Tim, if I couldn't find anything better than that 
to read, I'd read the almanac. 

Tim. Why, mother, that must be you, B. W. stands for Bjtsey Whipall. 

Wid. {indignantly) Me, indeed 1 Tim, you ought to be gibbeted, for 
sijesting such an idee I {Tim whistles 

Wid. I must go up stairs now, and see to things, see if you can't behave 
yourself while I am gone, and let the yarn alone. It took a week to un- 
snarl it where you and Dolly snarled it up. {exit k. 

Tim. {looks after her) I bet I'll show you a trick about that advertise- 
ment that will be worse than all the yarn snarled in creation, {e.cit L. 1 E. 



SCENE FIFTH.- Woodland. 

Enter, Harry h., poorly dressed, with the appearance of having traveled far. 

Har. This place does not seem much changed — every thing looks as it 
did three years ago. I wonder if Mary still lives where she did — does she 
believe me innocent? What years of misery and despair have they been 
to me— although iunocent of the crimes of which I was charged, yet I am a 
crushed an 1 broken-he irtod m^n — a fugitive, without h )ine, friends, or 
the means to obtain a meal. After three years of sleepless nights, and toil- 
some days, I stand here once mire in my native village, to feel a greater 
outcast, a more friendless wretch, than when chained to my followinan, I 
toiled a convict in Van Dieman's land, {voices u.) An, some one comes, I 
must not be seen ! {retires l. 

Enter, Widow Whipall r. 

Wid. Thank the lord, I'm here at last! What an awful lonesome 
place, I declare, I'm a notion to be skeered. Hark, what was that! a dread- 
ful unnatural sound, it might be an owl. Where can the Squire, be — it's 
time he was here this minit. Ugh, I wish he'd appointed some ether place 
for a rendview, it's romantic here, but awful kinder like a grave yard. 
Dear me, what if the Squire 'couldn't come, what would become of me, I 
should be skeered to death to go home alone, and I'll spile my new gown 
here in the damp grass, and my feet is as cold as a rock. Hark, I thought 
I heard footsteps, he's coming, yes' [ see him — that's his own white hat. 

{smooths her hair and gives a few touches to dress 

Tim. {i'i the distance, singing sojtly) "Oh, meet me by moonlight alone." 

Wid, {tragically) At last I 

Eater, Tim, in disguise, R. — changed voice. 

Tim, Good evening, adored of my soul, delight of my eyes, good looking 
v;idow with two children, allow me to greet you. {shakes hands 

Wid. Oh, don't, Squire, don't squeeze my hand, don't dear 

Tim. Struggle not, my beloved, thou art in the arms of one who loves 
thee. Never more to go out, while life shall continue, jBetsey Whipall, ray 
beloved ! — 

Wid. Oh, Squire, you awful man, what if Sally Hanscom should find it 
out. 

Tiin. Sally Hanscom be blest, who cares ! Y/ilt thou be mine, mine for 
better or worse, to keep and hold, to love and cherish till death do us part. 
Wilt thou, my Betsey ? 

Wid. Oh, Squire, I entreat you, spare ray blushes, my face is on fire ! 

Tim. Compose thyself, darkness is over' the face of all nature, and thy 
roseate blushes will not be brought to light, {he puts arm around her 

Wid. Don't, for massy's sake ! You'll spile ray new bonnet, It's all 
squelched up now. 



16 THROUGH SXOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Tim. Bonnets be consigned to hades. Shall a vile bonnet come between 
me and thee? 

Wid. Wait a minit, I'll take it oflf, 

Tim. Betsey, forbear, thou mightest take cold ia thy divine head, for- 
bear and listen to nie. Wilt thou be my partner ? 

Wid. Oh, S(iuire, hovv you flustrate me. 

Tim. Becalm! {kisses her 

Wid. I shall sartingly holler, if you do that again. I declare I never 
seed such a man. 

Ti))i. When shall the blissful day be, that makes thee mine. 

Wid. Oh, dear me, how precipitous, I shall faint, oh — oh — I'm utterly 
overcome. 

Tim. Only name the day I {kisses her 

Wid. {softly) Squire, what has become of your whiskers? 

Tim. {in natural voice) You've got me there, mother, the fact of it is, I 
never could make ihem grow. 

Wid. {starts) What, Tim ! What is it I see 1 

Tim. I don't see anything. 

Wid. Tim Whipall, is that you? 

Tm. Makes out to be. 

Wid. My son, Tim Whipall I 

Tim. So they say. 

Wid. And you're the C. D. that answered the advertisement in the Bu- 
gle? 

Tim. Yes, my beloved progenitor, I have that honor. 

Wid. - {catching up stick) I'll larn you to deceive your onsuspecting 
mother, you good-for-nothing disobedient boy you. {strikes with stick) I'll 
break every bone in your body, you wretched, desateful, impudent young 
8cally-wag, you. {chases Tim round the stage, disguise is removed — exit b. 

Tim. {looking after her and laughing — siyigs) 

She chased me through the greenwood, 

And through the blooming rye. 
With a bean pole in her fairy hand, 
And murder in her eye. 

Enter, Dolly l. 

Dol. Oh, Tim, what are you doing here? This be the exact spot, Tim, 
where you lay down to sleep when you got so drunk, on Christmas eve. 
three years ago. 

Tim. And'a dear drunk it was, Dolly. But I never can remember r ny- 
thing about it — however, its been a lesson to me, never to get drunk again, 
and I never will. 

Dol. And if it hadn't been for that promise, Tim, I never would have 
been Mrs. Whipall, Why, Tim, if you was to spend your evenings in the 
ale house as you use;l to do, I'd run away and leave you to yourself, and 
then you'd know what a jewel you'd lost, and have to look out for another. 

Tim. {smiling) And suppose I got one, what then ? 

Dol. What then? Why it wouldn't be good for her, that's all, there'd 
be such a shine that hasn't been since poor Ifany Fitirfield was accused of 
setting fire to his home, and killing poor Tim WhipoU. No, that there 
wouldn't. 

Tim. Oh, I thought you couldn't stand the loss of me, Dolly, but there 
is no fear of that, I make you too good a husban 1 for you to lun away, and 
all I hopes is, that Mr. Brierly at the mill, may be as good to Miss Mary. 
Of course it ain't for to say anything agin it,1but I'm sorry she's to marry 
him to-morrow. Folks say he's turned a^decent sort of a chap, but I don't 
like him for all that. 

Dol. Nor I, Tim, and I don't believe but that with all his talk, and all 
his sorrow, he was glad when Harry was sent awny over the seas, never to 
return any more. 

Tim, He'd no right to be sent away. He never set the house on fire, and 



THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 17 

I'll never believe he was the man as hit me on the head, though it was his 
gun. I've alvvays said so, and I say it now, and I'd fight any man in the 
village as would contradict me. I'm always wishing I could remember 
that night, I believe I'd recollect something very different, but I can't, 
and so an innocent man suffers. You know I found myself far away when 
I come too, in an old house, with an old woman to take care of me, and I 
was sick a long time. 

Har. {comes forward) God bless you, Tim Whipall ! ^ 

Tim, Why, who be ye, measter, frightening honest folks in this way ? 

Har, A starving, broken hearted, life wearied man ! 

Tim. Starving, well you do look. as if a meal would do you good. We bo 
poor folks ourselves, but we won't deny you a crust and a mug of milk, if 
you will come to our cottage. Poor fellow, have you journeyed far ? 

Har. Yes, thousands of miles, to gaze once more on my native village, 
to look upon a face I once loved, ere I bid farewell, to a world which cruel- 
ty, oppression and falsehood, have made hateful to me. 

Tim. Thy native village? Why, boy and man, I've lived here these 
thirty years, and never seen thy face afore. And yet — why — no, and yet 
there is — it can't be my old master! No, no, he be across the seas, poor 
fellow, tran?cripted for a crime he never committed. 

Har. Alas ! My poor honest Tim, it is indeed the wreck of the man 
you once called master, who now stands before you. 

Dol. Harry Fairfiold ! Great heaven 1 Yes, it is he, I know him now. 
Oh, Tim, it is master, poor innocent master ! 

Tim. Farmer Fairfield, sick, and hungry, and in need ! Farmer Fair- 
field, and I not know him ! I know him ncJw ! Oh, Farmer, Farmer — 
dang it, I'm so glad to see you back again that — that — dang it, I've been 
slee|.)ing with the window open, and have caught a cold in my head and 
can't speak plain. Dolly, tell master Harry how glad I be, for bless me, if 
I can — {draws hand across his eyes, and grabs the hand of Harry. 

Dol. Glad to see him, Tim, why, I'm so glad that I could laugh and 
dance, only I can't, Tim, you see I— I — 

{hursts into tears and throws her arms around Harry^s neck, 

Har. I did not expect tliis from you, Tim, you whom I was accused of 
attempting to murder on this very spot. 

Tim. But it was a lie, Farmer, and though I don't know the man who 
did it, yet I could swear it wasn't you. 

Har, Heaven knows it was not. 

Dol, And all the world will know it in good time — heaven will bring the 
truth to light at last. But you look ill, and are in want — in days gone by, 
you helped us, and we will help you now, won't we Tim? 

Tim. Won't we lass? We will share our last crust with him if need be. 
Come, Farmer, home with us. 

Har. I can appreciate your kindness, and thank you for it. But for the 
words I overheard you speak, I should not have revealed myself to you. 

Dol. Why not? We do not believe what the world says of you. 

Har. I Avill tell you. The sentence passed on me was transportation for 
life, and I was sent to the Convict Settlement to work in chains. But the 
longing to gaze, for an instant, on the face of my beloved Mary, became 
stronger day by day, and I resolved to make my escape. 

Tim. And you have done it, Harry ! 

Har. Yes, I escaped, reached England and landed on my native shores,, 
a beggar, and with the knowledge that every moment is fraught with dan- 
ger of arrest and heavier punishment. 

Tim. But they shan't arrest you ! 

Har. My good friend, I know you would shield me as far as your power 
goes, but of what avail is that! No, Tim, I cannot hope to baffle my ene- 
mies long. I come here to see, to speak but one word if possible with poor 
Mary, to hear from her own lips, that she believes me innocent. They 
may drag me back to my chains then, if they will, for I shall have noth- 
ing more to live for. 



IS THROUGH SKOW AND SUXSHIKE. 

Tim. Yes, vou have, Farmer, you have to live to prove the lie that sent 



'^ou across the seas ! 



S^ar. Vain hope! 

Dol. But you will come home with us, Farmer, we will hide you in our 
cottage I 

Har. Do not urge me friends, I will go to the iviill and seek an interview 
with Mary. ThenI will give myself up to justice, for what care I for lib- 
erty or even life, if, as I heard you say, Mary, to-morrow becomes the wife 
of another. 

Tim. Give yourself up — if you do may I be hanged ! Now, look here, 
Fanner, time was when there was not a man as could stand afore you, as 
Measier Brierly at the mill knows full well, but you ain't as strong as you 
was, and if you don't come and let us take care of you, may I never eat 
hard dumplings again if Dolly and me don't carry you home, won't we 
Dolly ? 

Dol. That we will, and I'd like to see the man as will prevent us! But 
you will come. Farmer, and I will go and let Miss Mary know you are in 
the village, for if you was to go to the mill, and I^leoster Brierly see you, he 
would have you "^arrested directly. He be a smooth spoken fellow, but 
there be no good in his heart, and with all his pretence, I believe he did 
more to fix the fire, and poor Tim's misfortune on you, than any one else. 

Tim. Did he, ah — did he? I remember the looks he gave you, and the 
threats he utlend when you struck him. Farmer, and I say, he is a snake 
in the grass, and so is his lick-spittle follower, Josiah Nibs. You must 
keep clear of these two, and I don't believe there's a man in the village but 
would stand your friend. So, come along. {Harry hesitates 

Dol. You won't, won't you? here, Tim, catch hold of him on one side, 
and I'll take the other, and here's ten finger nails for the face of the first 
man who says you shan't come. 

Ti7n. And here's a couple of good fists to back 'cm. Come, Farmer, 
come along, you must, or hang me, if I don't pick you up on my back and 
carry you. 

Har, God bless you, my friends, and may your kindness meet its re- 
ward, {exit L., Dolly on one side, Tim on the other 



ACT IV. 



SCENE FIBST.—Layidscape. 

Enter, Tim and Harry L. 

Tim. Measter Harry, you cannot see Mary to-night, because if you 
were to try you might be seen by Brierly, or that darned skunk, Nibs, and 
either of them would have you arrested. Wait til to-morrow and I will get 
Dolly to see her for you. 

Har. Tim, to-morrow she will be the wife of another, I must see her ere 
she is led to the altar. I will risk even life itself, to tell her, that while 
breath is left, my prayers are for her alone. 

Tim. If you will go, you must I suppose, but you shan't go alone, if dan- 
ger assails you, I'll be there to help you. I heard that Brierly was going 
away to-night, and would not be back till late, so there ain't much fear of 
running against him, but there is that sneak, Nibs, if he recognizes you, 
you'll want a friend. 

Har. God bless you, Tim ! I have one friend at least, in this world. 

Tim. Two, Measter Harry, myself and Dolly, and we will stick up for 
you. 

Har. Yes, I am certain of that, Tim — I wonder if she ever gives a 
thought to the man who loves her so dearly 1 

Tim. You had better let me go and break the news of your being here, 



THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 19 

to her gently, as I am an old married ;uan, I <-voa't be so likely to make a 
mess of it, as j'ou are. I wish she was going to marry you, to-morrow, in- 
stead of that Brierly. 

Har. No more, Tim, the thought is agony to me, and yet, it is selfish of 
me to envy another that which I cannot myself possess. {footsteps heard 

Tim. Some one comes ! Quick, hide, or you will be discovered 1 

Sar. No, I will see her, or die the next instant ! 

Tim. You will betray yourself, quick ! {Tim pulls Harry off 'S., 1 e. 

Enter, Brierly L. 2 e. 

Bri. Now, Master Josiah Nibs, the sooner your business is settled with 
me, the better, {looks at watch) He comes I 

Eyiter, Nibs h. 2 K. 

Ntbs. You are merry, William, but who would not be on his wedding 
eve? Christmas eve, too, especially after he has had so much trouble to 
win his bride. 

Bri. You are punctual. Mr. Nibs! 

Nibs. Yes, I am generally so. 

Bri. Well, let us to business, and the sooner it is over the better. 

Nibs. True. Well then, William, are you ready to secure or pay to me, 
fifteen thousand pounds? 

Bri. Will not your grasping soul allow you to take less? 

Nibs. Not one farthing less. Fifteen thousand pounds may appear a 
large sum, but then, look what you get for it ! Silence, safety, and a love- 
ly bride — Aye, life itself 1 

Bri. If I refuse, you will betray me? 

Nibs. Assuredly, this very night 1 

Bri. You shall have your dues. 

Nibs. Of course I shall ! 

Bri. Aye, you shall ! But first, where are the statements you have so of- 
ten lold me you have written out, and would use against me, if I failed to 
feed your hungry soul with gold. I must have them before I pay you. 

Nibs. I have them here 1 {slaps side pocket 

Bri. Give them to me 1 

Nibs, {holds out hand) Fifteen thsusand pounds. I must have the 
money first, or security to the amount — and then I will give you every writ- 
ten word of evidence I have against you. The money, or its equivalent in 
my possession, and I will at once start on my long journey across the seas. 

Bri. {takes roll of money from pocket and gives to Nibs) There is the 
price of your silence, the half of the fortune my bride brings me I Now, 
for your scraps you have written of our doing, and of our crimes. 

Nibs. Fear not but you shall have them — but first, I will make suie the 
amount is correct. 

Bri. Quick then, for I have no time to waste. 

Nibs, {bending over notes) Nor I. I am very anxious to start on my 
journey. 

Bri. {aside — with gun held up by barrel) Aye, villain, the long journey 
you travel is not across the seas, but to ihe grave, {strikes him) Thus do I 
save my gold, and release myself from a merciless wretch ! 

Nibs, {drops notes, and jumps at him) Villain! would you murder me ? 

Bri. "Would! aye, I will, you know too much for my safety! While 
you live, the gallows must be ever present to my thoughts. You must die, 
you must die ! {they strugrjle — Tim looks in horrijied 

Nibs. I will not die, treacherous villain ! I will denounce you yet. 

Bri. You have lived too long, take this, and this! {.strikes him several 
times — Nibs falls — Brierly exa7nines him. 

Tim. {presses hands to forehca I) Great Grtfl 1 now do I remember all the 
incidents of that terrible night ! This f'-n-ful scene has now broken the 
spell, and bi'ought iViis to my memory. Tliesq are tiie two men who ai.- 



20 THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

tacked me in the lane. The assassin there, is the same who struck me 
down and left rae for dead. Yes — yes — I see it all now, and Harry Fair- 
field, you are saved ! Murder has been committed, and justice shall yet be 
done you. {disapcars 

Bri. Now, I am safe at last! The only man who could have divulged 
my crimes, is dead, and the terrible fear, that for years has haunted me ia 
at rest forever. With Mary, and wealth sufficient for all my wants, and 
this viper {kicks body) removed from my path, I can defy all the world. 
I will throw the body into the mill stream, and all evidences of my crime 
will be hidden. Ha, ha, ha! this is indeed the hour of my triumph and 
revenge. {drags body l. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT V. 

SCENE FIRST.— Parlor. 

Bri. What have I to fear, is not my enemy removed by death? Never 
can he or that farmer, risa to confound me, the body of one lies at the bot- 
tom of the river, while the oiher languishes in chains, far over the waters. 
I haved triumphed, I will triumph at any cost, but if danger confronts me, 
I will be prepared to meet it. {takes pistols from pocket and examines them) 
There has been enough blood shed, already, to revenge me for that blow, 
Btruck by Harry Fairfield, on the day of the harvest home. But rather 
than be foiled at last, I will swim in it. Pshaw,. what have I to fear ! 
Nothing, I will be prepared. 

Enter, L., Squire Dznvers, Mary in bridal costume, Maids etc. 

Bri. {kisses Mary hand) At last, dear Mary, the hope of years, the love 
of my youth and manhood, is about to lind its reward. But why that pale 
cheek, can you doubt my love, Mary ? 

Mary. No, no, biit — 

Bri. But what, Mary ? 

Mary. I know not, William, but there is a presentiment — a something, 
that tells me, I shall never become your wife. 

Bri. Who shall prevent you? Psliaw ! Away with your presentiments! 
You are mine now, and f(;rever, no one can part us. {to Denvcrs) We are 
ready ! 

Enter, Tnn and Dolly L. 

Ti7n. Hold I 

Bri. What means this foolery, fellow ! Wliy do you attempt to stop 
this ceremony ? 

Tim. Because this house should not be defiled by the foot of an assassin ! 

Mary, {recoiling) An assassin ! 

Tim. Yes. Squire Denvers, you are a Justice — I demand that you hear 
my charge against this man, before you proceed further with tliis cere- 
mony. 

Squire D. Getaway, Tim, you have been drinking, I shall have to spoil 
your Christmas, by ordering you into custody. 

Dot. My Tim drinking, why he ain't tasted a drop for these three years ! 

Bri. Stand aside, fellow, or I'll hurl you from my path ! 

Tivi. No, you won't! Ilouso-burner, and skull-splitter that you are! 
Squire, neighbors, all ; } ou know that three yeurs ago, Harry Fairfield was 
transported for killing me. 

All, Yes, yes ! 

Tivi. But I recollect now, I remember all ! I 



TIIHOUGII SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 21 

Bri. (hastily) Squire, as a Magistrate, I appeal to you to have this mau 
removed. Come, Mary, let not the ravings of a drunken man distress you, 
a few hours in the stocks will bring him to his senses. 

Tim. I am in my senses, worse luck to you 1 I now remember waking 
up from my sleep, to confront you and your villainous clerk. Nibs, whom 
you sent to fire the house, and leave the coat of its owner, vvith the tinder 
box in the pocket, to convict him of your crime. I was beaten and car- 
ried to an old house and left as you thought, dead, but an old woman found 
and took care of me until I could go home, but that was not till Harry 
Fairfield had been sent away. 

Bri. Away, lying villain, or I'll strike you to my feet! 

Mayy. {between them) Hold! If he speaks falsely, what have you to 
fear? An innocent man never resorts to violence to establish that inno- 
cence ! 

Bri. (.sTOi7i?)(?) It is true ! Forgive me for being annoyed at his ravings. 

Tirn. These j;re true words that I utter. Surprised in your infamy, with 
the farmer's gun, which Josiah Nibs had brought from the farm, you struck 
me on the head. 

Bri. Ha, ha, ha 1 A pretty story, but a very weak one, when it takes 
three years to make it up. 

Tim. Aye, villain, it never would have been remembered, but hidden 
behind a tree last night, I witnessed a similar scene. 

Bri. {springs forivard and catches him by the throat) Viper ! I'll strangle 
you ! 

Mary. Release him ! why this violence, William? 

Bri. Forgive me, Mary, I scarce knoAV what 1 do. 

Tim. Squire Denvers, you may think me mad, but hear me and let him 
disprove it if he can. Here, I swear, that last night I saw him quarrel 
with Josiah Nibs, beat his head as he did mine, with the butt of a gun, 
and drag his body off and threw it in the mill stream, to prevent his di- 
vulging the crime of having attempted to murder me, and of setting fire to 
Harry Fairfield's house. 

Bri. Heaven, can I endure this! Stand aside, Mary, not even your 
love shall save him ! 

Squire D. Hold, I command j'ou ! Where is Nibs, let him confront this 
fellow, and prove him a liar and slanderer! 

Tcm. Ah," produce him if you can ! 

Bri. I cannot produce him, for he sailed for India, last night, and it is 
well known to many that he was going! 

Squire D. True, and this fellow knew it. Remove him, and I will not 
fail to inflict the punishment on him he deserves. 

Tlin. To prove the truth of every word I have said, I call upon my wit- 
ness. He is here I 

Enter, Nibs, supported by two men — Brierly titters a cry of terror — Mary 
staggers Lack, is caught by Dotty — every one looks surprised. 

Nibs, {points at Brierly) Ah, villain, villain ! Thank God, I am in 
time to prevent that poor girl becoming the wife of a murderer. Squire 
Denvers, I am dying, but before I pay the penalty of a Avicked life, hear 
my confession, and arrest my murdererr— I die by the hand of William Bri- 
erly, the man who tempted me >to fire the house of Harry Fairfield ; the 
man who all but murdered Tim. The man who goaded me to crime, 
and made me the instrument of his revengful passions, {couah-i. falls back 

Bri. False, all false! Who will believe this tale? I guilty !— What 
should prompt me to such crimes ? 

Nibs, {rallying) Revenge, for the blow struck by an honest man, upon 
the face of a villain. Squire, with ray dying breath, I swear Harry Fair- 
field is innocent, that I kindled the fire, and that yonder villain, to hide 
his attempt on Tim's life, and to destroy all evidence of his crime, has 
murdered me. {falls back exhausted 

Bri. Mary, Mary, you will not believe this wild story ? {goes to Mary 



22 THROUGH SNOW AND SUNSHINE. 

Mary, (recoiling) Away murderer ! Oh, villaia villain 1 Away, I say I 
I hate, I loathe, I despise you ! 

Squire D. Seize him 1 William Brierly, you are iudeed a villain, with- 
out mercy, and as you have denied it to others, may the law deny it ta 
you. Arrest him ! 

Bri. Back I {draioing pistol) The game has been played, and I have 
loDt! Bat I'll not make a show for a gaping crowd, or stand upon a gal- 
lows. Approach not, for I am a desperate man ! 

Squire D. Block up every door, he cannot escape! William Brierly, I 
call on you to surrender I 

Bri. And I refuse, and woe to him who attempts my capture. Brought 
as I am to bay, I can still give back scorn for scorn, hate lor hate. Mary, 
you are saved from a blood-stained husband. But still I triumph in the 
knowledge that the man you preferred to me, can never possess you. Toil- 
ing in chains, a branded felon, you will never see him more. Ah, the man 
who ruined him to win you, still glories in the knowledge that he is dead 
to you forever. {■•steps back aad presents pistol — Harry Fairjidd springs in 
takes pistol from him, and hurls him back.) 

Har. Scoundrel ! Harry Fairfield is here to confront you ! 

Bri. Great Heaven I Has fate itself conspired against me I 

Har. Kye, villain ! Providence enabled me to escape from my chains 
and brought me to the spot where your last victim lay, and aided me to 
succor him long enough to betray your villainy. Oh, what injury did I ev- 
er do you, that you have made wretched two loving hearts? 

Bri. You loved the woman 1 had hoped to make my own, and struck 
the man who never forgave a blow. I swore to be revenged and I kept my 
word. 

Har. But how has that revenge recoiled upon yourself? Defeated, dis- 
honored, you stand a branded felon, in the presence of those you sought to 
destroy. 

Bri. Ah, triumph in your victor}', but even yet, I will turn your tri- 
umph to defeat, your joy to sorrow, your hopes to tears, and thus I tri- 
umph even as 1 fall — This, to her heart! 

Brierly draws pistol and levels it at Mary — Harry quickly 4 res at Brierly 
who falls back — Mary screams and clings to Dolly. 

Nibs, {raising hiinself) Retribution, justice at last — T — I die — con — 
tent! {falls back dead 

Bri. {struggles to his elboiv) Aye, justice is mine, victory yours ! My 
life is ebbing out fast — draw near me, all, and hear the only atonement 1 
can make for years of villainy. I — I — am guilty — Harry Fairtield is in- 
nocent. I hated him, but my revenge has recoiled upon myself — he has 
been merciful and saved a blood stained wretch from tne gallows — forgive 
me — pray for me — pray — pray — {his head sinks slowly back — dead 

All stand gazing at the two dead bodies for a moment. 

Har. {springing toioards Mary) Mary, Mary ! My loved, my lost, re- 
stofed I 

Mary. Oh, Harry ! Providence has restored you to me again. How 
gladly I press the hand from which the brand of Cain has been removed. 

{Christmas bells heard r urging, until curtain 

Har. Ok, Mary, what happiness ! The Christmas bells ring out in joy- 
ous peals a promise of "Peace on Earth, Good will to men." 



CURTAIN 



I' f f f I f f I' 
"AMATEUR THEATRICAL RECORD." 



A Paper Especially for Amateurs. 



We call your attention to this advertisement of "The Amateur Theatrical 
Record," a paper now being issued by us, and earnestly ask your support of 
the same, not only good will, but subscription. Please read carefully. 

The Object. There are hundreds of Amateur Companies in the United 
States and Canada, and thousands of Amateur players, and some organiza- 
tions give performances during the entire year, others for a few months on- 
ly. This class of people had no paper devoted to their interests until the 
Record was established. In its columns are noticed a^Z new plays, as is- 
sued, all manner of inquiries relative to the stage are answered. A complete 
list of our Edition of dramas is given in each issue. Correspondence from 
Amateur Companies is given, stating what is produced, and with what suc- 
cess. An important feature is the publication of a short farce in each icsue, 
making the value in a year $1.80, for these alone — more than three times 
the charge for subscription. Everything is done, that can be, to m?ke it of 
great value to the people it is published for. Is a 6 column folio, and issued 
monthly from our office. 

"We want a correspondent in every city, town and hamlet, where a public 
entertainment is given, to send us programmes, and report the success of 
the performances. 

An important item, in the life of the paper, is a good list of paying subscri- 
bers. We do not wish to make money on it — only desire it to pay its own 
way. Our profit will be on our Plays. The subscription will be 50 cents 
per year — 30 cents for six months, and 15 cents for three months. Any 
person who may wish to form a club, will on application receive special 
rates. To any one ordering Plays to the amount of $ 3.00, from our own list 
at one time, the paper will be sent free for one year. We expect to make 
the RECORD of so much value to every Amateur, that they cannot afford to 
be without it. You who read this, will you please enclose the subscription 
price in 1, 2 or 3 cent postage stamps, and send to us at once. 

A favor will be shown us, by every one interested, if they will work a lit- 
tle for us. Send us the name of the Manager of every Amateur Company 
you know of, and we will send him a sample copy of the paper. We want 
to know the addre'^s of every Manager in the United States and Canada. 
We wish to receive a letter from every person who may read this, with a 
Buhscription, also any suggestion, etc. about the paper. 

Address A. D. AMES, 

Dramatic Publisher, 

CLYDE, OHIO. 



A. D. AMES, PUBLISHEB, CLYDE, 0. 



OUR BirsmESS-WHAT WE BO. 

PLATS. "We sell everything in the line of dramas and farces, and call 
tho attention of our numerous patrons to our own list. We think it em- 
braces play which will suit either professional or amateur companies. If 
however yoti need something, published elsewhere, do not hesitate to send 
us your orders — our stock is very large, aad we fill promptly. — Stocks of 
every publisher on hand. 

LETTERS OF INQUIRY ansvrered promptly, and we solicit correspond 
ence. If tlie business upon. Avhich you write concerns you alone, enclose a 
3 cent stamp for reply. Amateurs who are puzzled upon any questions 
relative to the stage will be answered explicitly, and to the best of our abil- 
ity. 

MANUSCRIPT FLAYS. Parties who have Mss. to dispose of should 
write to us. We will publish whatever may be meritorious, on terms which 
will be satisfactory. 

SHEET MUSIC. Orders for sheet music, or music books will be re- 
ceived and filled as promptly as possible. 

C^2l4iOGZ7^A5 will be sent free to any address. Send a postal card, 
with your address, and the catalogue will be sent by the next mail. 

HO W TO ORDER. It would perhaps seem to every one that any di- 
rections as to 'how to order' plays was entirely superfluous ; but not so. 
We have many instances, and remember to have been severely censured by 
parties, some of whom failed to sign their name to their order, or failed to 
write the state, etc. In the first place, begin your order with the name ol 
your post office, county and state. If you order from our list, it is not nec- 
essary to designate, only by giving the name of the play; but if from the 
lists of other publishers, state the publishers name, if you know it. Bo 
not write your letters of inquiry on the same sheet with your orders, and 
make the order always as brief as possible. When completed do not fail to 
sign your name very plainly.. Attention to these rules will insure the filling 
of your orders, by return mail. Postage stamps of the denomination of 1, 
2 and 3 cents, will be taken in any amount less than $3.00. 

PLAYS TO SUIT COMPANIES. Amateur companies frequently hare 
trouble in procuring Plays well adapted to their wants, frequently ordering 
perhaps five dollar's worth in single copies, before anything suitable can 
be found. All this can be done away with. Our catalogue embraces playa 
suitable for any and all companies, andif our friends will write to us, state- 
ing the requirements of their companies, there need be no trouble, in this 
line at least. If a temperance society wants plays, we have something for 
them. If a company wants something which is very funny, we can suit 
them. In fact, we have dramas, farces, tragedies and comedies which will 
suit you. Enclose 15 cents per copy, for as many copies as you may need, 
and we guarantee to suit you, if you will state the size of your company, 
aud whether best adopted to the serious or funny. Give us a trial at least. 

MAGNESIUM TABLEA U LIGHTS. There is scarcely a person who 
has not been annoyed by the smoking of colorea fires, which are so often 
used on tableaux, and whole scenes in dramas have been ruined by the 
coughing and noise always attendant on their use. We earnestly recom- 
mend the use of the Magnesium lights. They can be ignited with a common 
match, and burn with wonderful brilliancy. There is no danger in their use; 
they make no smoke and are cheap. Price, 25 cents each, by mail, post 
paid. Tnoso who do not know how to burn them, -will ba insj-ructed by 
addressing the publisher. 



AMES' PLAYS,-CO]^Ti:^nTED. 



NO. M. F. 

46 Man and Wife, drama, 5 acts, by H. A. Webber 12 7 

91 Michael Erie, drama, 2 acts, by Egerton Wilks 8 3 

36 Miller of Dervvent Water, drama, 3 acts, by E. Fitzball 5 2 

83 Mischievous Nigger, ethiopean farce, 1 act, by C. White. ..4 2 

34 Mistletoe Bough, melo-drama, 2 acts, by C. Somerset 7 3 

69 Mother's Fool, farce, J act, by W. Heiiri Wilkins 6 1 

1 Mr. & Mrs. Pringle, farce, 1 act, by Don T. De Treuba Ck)sio..7 2 

23 My Heart's in the Highlands, farce, 1 act, 4 3 

32 My Wife's Relations, comedietta, 1 act, by Walter Gordon... 4 4 
90 No Cure No Pay, ethiopean farce, 1 act, by G. W. H. Griffin..3 1 

61 Not as Deaf as He Seems, ethiopenn farce, 1 act, 2 

37 Not BO Bad After All, comedy, 3 acts, by Wybert Reeve 6 5 

44 Obedience, comedietta, 1 act, by Hattie L. Lambla 1 2 

81 Old Phil's Birthday, drama, 2 acts, by J. P. Wooler 5 2 

33 On the Sly, farce, 1 act, by John Madison Morton 3 2 

109 Other People's Children, etho farce, 1 act, by A. N. Field 3 2 

85 Outcast's Wife, drama, 3 acts, by Colin H. Hazlewood 12 3 

83 Out on the World, drama, 3 acts, 5 4 

63 Out in the Streets, temp drama, 3 acts, by S. N. Cook 6 4 

57 Paddy Miles' Boy, irish farce, 1 act, by James Pilgrim 5 2 

29 Painter of Ghent, play, lace, by Douglass Jerrold 5 2 

114 Passions, coniedy, 4 acts, by F. Marmaduke Dey 8 4 

18 Poacher's Doom, domestic drama, 3 acts, by A. D. Ames 8 3 

51 Rescued, temperance drama. 2 acts, by C. H. Gilbert 5 3 

110 Reverses, domestic drama, 5 acts, by A. Newton Field 12 6 

45 Rock Allen the Orphan, drama, 1 act, by W. Henri Wilkin3..5 3 

96 Rooms to Let without Board, ethiopean farce, 1 act, 2 1 

59 Saved, temperance sketch, 1 act, by Edwin Tardy 2 3 

48 Schnaps, dutch farce, 1 act, by M. A. D. Cliffton 1 1 

107 School, ethiopean farce, 1 act, by A. Newton Field 5 

115 S. H. A. M. Pinafore, burl'sq, 1 act, by W. Henri Wilkins... 5 3 

55 Somebody's Nobody, farce, 1 act, by C. A. Maltby 3 2 

94 Sixteen Thousand Years Ago, ethiopean farce, 1 act, 3 

25 Sport with a Sportsman, ethiopean I'arce, 1 act, 2 

79 Spy of Atlanta, military allegory, (i acts, by A. D. Ames... 14 3 

92 Stage Struck Darkey, ethiopean farce, 1 act, 2 1 

10 Stocks Up, Stocks Down, ethiopean farce, 1 act, 2 

62 Ten Nights in a Bar Room, temperance drama, 5 acts, 7 3 

64 That Boy Sam, etho farce, 1 act, by F. L. Cutler 3 1 

40 That Mysterious Bundle, farce, 1 act, by H. L. Lambla 2 2 

38 The Bewitched Closet, sketch, 1 act, by H. L. Lambla 5 2 

87 The Biter Bit, comed}'-, 2 acts, by Barham Livius 5 2 

101 The Coming Man, farce, 1 act, by W. Henri Wilkins 3 1 

67 The False Friend, drama, 2 act, by Geo. S. Vautrot 6 1 

97 The Fatal Blow, melo-drama, 2 acts, by Edward Fitzball. ..7 1 

93 The Gentleman in Blqck, drama, 2 act, W. H. Murry 9 4 

112 The New Magdalen, drama, pro 3 acts, by A.Newton Field.. .8 3 

71 The Reward of Crime, drama, 2 acts, by W. Henri Wilkins..5 3 

16 The Serf, tragedy, 5 ads, by R. Talbot 6 3 

68 The Sham Professor, farce, 1 act, by F. L. Cutler 4 

6 The Studio, ethiopean farce, 1 act, 3 

102 TurnoftheTide, temp drama, 3 acts, by W. Henri Wilkins. ..7 4 
54 The Two T. J's, farce, 1 act, by Martin Beecher 4 2 

^Z^r* Catalogue continued on last page of cover. -"@^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




AMES' P 

014 212 069 • 

NO. M. F. 

7 The Vow of the Ornoni, drama, 3 acts, by J. N. Gotthold 8 1 

28 Thirty-three next Birthday, farce. 1 act, by M. Morton 4 2 

lis Those Awful Boys, etho farce, 1 act, by A. Newton Field 5 

63 Three Glasses a Day, teni dm, 2 acts, bvW. Henri Wi]kiiis...4 2 

105 Throu/?h Snow and Sunshine, drama, ^5 acts 4 

4 Twain's Dodging, etho farce, 1 act, by A. Newton Field 3 1 

5 When Women Weep, com'd'ta. 1 act, by J. N. Gotthoid........8 2 

56 Wooing Under Difficulties, farce, 1 act, bv J. T. Douglass. ..4 3 

41 Won at Last, comedy drama, 3 acts, bv Wvbert Bpa-vo 7 3 

70 Which will he Marry, farce, 1 act, by Thos. E. Wiliss 2 8 

58 Wrecked, temperance drama, 2 acts," bv A. D. Ame? 9 3 

111 Yankee Duelist, farce, 1 act, by A. Newton Field 2 2 



FL EA SE BEAD CA JREFULL T. 



When remitting, send Post Office Order if possible, otherwise send 
a Registered Letter, or Draft on New York. Small amounts may be 
sent in 1, 2, or 3 cent postage stamps with but little risk. 

Do not Avaste your own, and our time by asking us if we can send 
you a certain play, but enclose your money, 15 cents per copy. If 
it is published, we will send it, otherwise we will notify you, and 
you can instruct us to send something else, or return the money. 

Please notice that we will not fill telegraph orders, and will not 
send goods to any one 0. 0. D. 

Our books may be ordered from any bookseller in the United 
States and Canada. If you have trouble however, in getting Ames' 
Edition, send directly to us. 

Amateur companies often have trouble in procuring Plays suited 
to their wants, ordering perhaps five dollars' worth before anything 
suitable can be found. This ctu be avoided. Our list embraces Plays 
suitable for all companies, and if our friends will write to us, stating 
their requirements, we can suit them. Enclose 15 cents per copy 
for as many sample copies us you wish, and a list of those you have 
produced. State also the kind of Play desired, number of charac- 
ters, etc. We will select aiid send samples by return mail. 

We do not make any discount on a number of copies of books, 
n-ither will we send Plays out to be returned if not suitable. 

A complete Descriptive Catalogue will be sent free to any one on 
application. Send a postal card with your address. 

A. D. AMES, Pub., Clyde, Ohio. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




014 212 069 # 



